


Actions Speak Louder

by Cobrilee



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Stiles can see that Derek is acting different lately, but can’t figure out why. Lydia figured it out a long time ago, and helpfully gives Stiles a clue.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr Ficlets [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/480565
Comments: 16
Kudos: 390





	Actions Speak Louder

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by teenwerewoofs on Tumblr, the prompt was "tender Sterek". Thanks to Rhysiana for helping me figure out an idea when I was super stuck!

“Do you think something is wrong with Derek?”

“Hmm?” Lydia doesn’t look up from the novel she’s reading, but she does arch an eyebrow at Stiles’ question. He assumes that’s her way of showing she’s listening. Somewhat.

“He’s been acting really weird. He hasn’t growled or glared or…  _ barked _ at me in, like, weeks.” He grins at his own joke. She, of course, doesn’t seem to appreciate it. That’s okay, though. She never does.   
  
Shrugging, she flips the page. “Maybe he doesn’t feel he has to be threatening anymore.”

He snorts. “Being threatening is Derek’s raison d’etre.”

Lydia rolls her eyes as she finally lays the novel down in her lap and focuses her full attention on him. “It’s been years, Stiles. Whatever long-standing prejudices you have against Derek really need to be laid to rest at this point.”

“I am  _ not _ prejudiced against him!” he protests, affronted. “Biased, maybe. Biased may be an accurate descriptor. But not prejudiced.”

She arches the same eyebrow at him. “Semantics.”

“Fine.” He flops back in the deck chair, glancing askance at the topic of their conversation. Derek stands in the Hale family kitchen, the window framing him in a domestic tableau, smiling at Erica and puttering around with something.  _ Puttering. _ It’s just wrong.

“You might appreciate his newfound happiness a bit more, honestly. The benefits of it seem mostly directed at you.”

Blinking at the unexpected way the conversation has turned back around on him, he takes the opportunity to sneak another peek at Derek. Who, unfortunately, is now looking his way. Derek smiles at him, and it’s soft, and… disarming. Stiles ducks, not sure how to react and  _ definitely  _ not sure how to deal with his suddenly racing heart.

Oblivious to his distress, Lydia starts ticking items off her perfectly manicured fingertips. “The cake he made two weeks ago? Baked after you expressed a craving for carrot cake. The impromptu pack trip to the swimming hole three days later? You were hot and restless and all the movie suggestions in the world couldn’t satisfy you. The new large-screen TV last week? Acquired within twenty-four hours of you complaining that all of those movies you didn’t want to watch were too hard to enjoy on such a small screen, because there are always too many people trying to jockey for the best position.”

She sits back, satisfied she’s made her point. Stiles’ mind races over all the events she’s listed, and he’s stunned to realize she’s absolutely correct. Well, not stunned she’s correct, but that Derek seems to have been making an effort to make him feel… happy? Taken care of? 

_ Loved _ ?

“Oh.”

“ _ Yes _ , ‘oh’.” Done with the conversation, she picks her book back up and resumes reading. Stiles doesn’t protest, because suddenly, he has a  _ lot _ to think about.

\-----

“What are you up to?”

Derek doesn’t jump, because obviously he heard Stiles coming before he even opened the door. “Attempting a new recipe.”

“Ooh, gimme.” He leans over the counter, and Derek eyes him before dutifully holding what resembles an egg roll out for a taste. Stiles takes his time, wrapping his lips around the roll and biting down, then chewing slowly. He watches Derek as closely as he can while pretending to not be watching him at all, and feels a sense of wonder when he realizes Derek is watching him just as closely. He doesn’t bother to try to look away when Derek’s gaze lifts and they lock eyes.

Swallowing, Stiles steps back and considers his options. He decides to dive in head-first, his favorite way of doing everything. “It’s delicious. Mind telling me what inspired you to make krokiety?”

The corner of Derek’s lips lift and Stiles wonders how many times he’s missed that soft, sweet smile being directed his way. “You mentioned the other night that you missed your grandmother’s traditional Polish cooking.”

Stiles sinks down onto the bar stool on his side of the counter, and is delighted when Derek leans in from his side. “Babcia Karolina would be proud. You make krokiety like you’re a Polish native. I mean, she’d tell you all the ways you screwed it up, because nobody will ever make any Polish food half as good as she does,  _ especially _ her neighbor Agata, but in the end she’d give you her stamp of approval and ask when you’re going to propose to me.”

It’s out before he knows he’s going to say it; despite the obvious affection Derek feels for him, he didn’t actually mean to put it all out there like that.

Fortunately for him, Derek seems to have been waiting for an opportunity. “If I had her blessing, I’d do it right there in front of her.”

He knew. He  _ knew _ Derek was leading up to a confession of some sort, but the magnitude of it blows him away. “Derek.”

Smiling a bit ruefully, Derek shakes his head. “It’s okay, Stiles. I know you don’t feel that way. I just wanted to take care of you, like…”

“Like a mate would,” Stiles finishes for him. He smiles back, a little crookedly. “You see me as your mate, and I’m an oblivious moron, because it somehow escaped my notice that all these kind things you’ve been doing were all for me.”

Derek’s chin drops a little, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re wrong, by the way.” Derek lifts his eyes back to Stiles, a question in them, and Stiles leans in closer over the counter. Derek does too, whether consciously or unconsciously, and Stiles lets his gaze bore right into Derek’s. “I do feel that way. Part of me always has. The part of me that knew I was nowhere close to being in your league viciously crushed that part of me, but it’s always been there, in the back of my head.”

The question has become hope, but Stiles can sense the hesitance behind it. “I don’t deserve to be put on a pedestal, Stiles. I’m not in some unobtainable ‘league’.” He leans in just a teensy bit further, and if Stiles does too, they’ll be close enough to kiss. “No matter how you see me, it could never compare to how I see you. Brave, selfless, loyal, funny, brilliant, determined.  _ Home _ .”

Stiles leans in.

The kiss is like a brush fire, starting with a spark and quickly consuming them. Derek’s hands lift to cup his face, thumbs stroking along his jawline with every quick nip of his lips. Stiles can’t get close enough, and he curses the counter for keeping them far enough apart to let the kiss get really interesting.

When Derek pulls back, there’s laughter in his eyes. It’s fond, pleased, but it’s laughter. Stiles decides his favorite thing in the world is the way Derek’s eyes crinkle at the corner when he’s happy. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you.” Derek kisses him again. “I’m laughing at us. For being so clueless.”

“You know you could have said something,” Stiles points out. “That might have given me a clue.”

Smirking, Derek holds out the krokiety and Stiles happily takes another bite. “Actions speak louder, Stiles.” 

Swallowing the mouthful of savory crepe, Stiles props his chin in both hands. “If you  _ really _ want to show me you love me, you’ll make kopytka.  _ Ooooh,  _ and kolaczki. I like mine the traditional way, with apricot.”

“Who says I love you?” Derek teases.

He doesn’t have to, because the next night, he’s made both. Stiles smothers him in kisses and says,  _ I love you, too. _


End file.
